WHEN MY 59-YEAR-OLD NEIGHBOR KNOCKED AT MIDNIGHT, I THOUGHT I WAS FIXING A PIPE, BUT I WAS REALLY SAVING MY OWN LIFE…

When I pulled back the curtain, Caroline stood on my porch in a white bathrobe and soaked slippers. Her hair was mussed, her face had gone pale beneath the porch light, and her eyes held that naked, bewildered fear people wear only when they have run out of plans.

I opened the door fast. “Caroline?”

“Mark,” she said, and her voice shook in a way I had continue reading …